Futile Odds, Laughing Gods

I'm not the type to read a book, any book, no matter how much I may like it more than one time. I don't know, it almost seems disrespectful to the honor of the book. My memory of how much I loved it the first time around is just that satisfying I guess. Anyway, that's usually how things are. I'm reading Neil Gaiman's American Gods for the third time in like a week, and I can't help but feel myself growing more into the book each day. It's like a pleasant fuzzy fungus of anthropomorphic goodness.

Nothing's working in my apartment. I think I've contact-depressed all of the appliances, and as impressed as I was with my mad pseudo empathic skills, it's still not a good thing that my lights, television, coffee pot, radio, and A/C won't turn on. And so, I'm reading. Reading and writing. Most of the writing stems from the reading in some way, but it's coming out with a distinctly dark flair to it that I'm not all too sure is really mine. It's nifty though, speaking in someone else's voice for the time being as I've not actually spoken spoken (aloud) for a while now. I fear I might be mute. I also fear that I've Helen Kellerosis. The blindness should be coming shortly.

In any case, things feel shitty right now. I've not been paid for my work, I hate my job, I strongly dislike my neighbors, the weather's quite gross, and I don't really like myself anymore. Everything feels tremendously strenuous to do, it sucks. All I want to do is sleep, but bedsores hurt (so I've been told) and I'm not sure what to do anymore.

On the bright side, Vision: M's are on sale. Yay.

Through The Fire

Today's been one of those days. The kind where one incredibly bad thing spawns a series of seemingly unrelated, however equally (yet uniquely) horrible (and often smaller) events later on in the day? Yeah. It's been bad.

Growing up, I was subjected to a number of odd manners of rearing--my mother liked to switch up her parenting style every few years or so to keep me on my toes. My earliest childhood memories involve being ignored for the most part if something were wrong, for I was being "dramatic". In retrospect, there's a good chance that I was being dramatic. In that same token, I suppose that my dramatic nature I've grown into could also be a response to being ignored as a youth, still yearning for attention. I dunno. In any case, my mother, the lovely woman that she is (and really, she is quite nice from time to time), in my opinion ruined a large deal of my personality.

I crave attention constantly and yet feel numb for the most part, it's quite odd and unique I like to think. But back to the point of this post.

Today, I opened up quite a bit to someone that I've had intense feelings for for quite some time now. In the past, I've always found this to be a really good thing to do, regardless of the circumstances considering that the positives outweigh the negatives like nobody's business.
Sure, your feelings may not be reciprocated through and through, but you've made your adoration known and that's always a good feeling in the end, I think. And hell, what's the worse that could happen? Then can reject you.

I don't think I've really had to handle rejection all that much in the past, I've always had buffers both external and internal. If it was not a parent shielding me from something, it was my instinct guiding me away from situations that would leave me open to hurt. I didn't really expect any kind of reciprocation here. If anything, I would have been slightly bothered by it considering the circumstances, what with this person being in a relationship and significantly older than myself. No, being turned down was expected. It was the devastation I felt though, that was surprising.

It was a slow burn really. The kind of hurt that only sinks in once you've thought about it and assumed that you weren't phased by. I wanted to do a number of things, naturally. Cry, scream, should, bawl, wail (really all variations of crying were considered and promptly rejected on my way home) throw things, break things, etc.

It was weird, I've not felt this way about anything in ages. I dunno, it was just intense.

What's worse though is now I've spawned a chain reaction I think. One of negativity that's seeping into the nooks and crannies of my every day life. I'm fighting with everyone I know, losing important things, feeling overwhelmed. It sucks. What's worse though, if that I can't cry about any of it on my own. The tears just won't come unless I'm listening to music.

And so, I'm making playlists. Lots and lots of playlists.

FearTV: Fear Manipulation by the Mass Media

As a part of WAMU 88.5's Youth Voices radio workshop, my four colleagues and I set out to tell a story about an issue that we felt was important not only to us, but to our current generation as a whole. All of our ideas were unique and diverse sounding when we pitched them to our boss and editor a few months ago, and something struck me about the stories as a whole: not one of them was anything nearly as morbid, depressing, or pessimistic as the average evening news that I watched every night. I wondered why, and then decided to find out.

This is a rough cut that isn't completely smoothed over yet, of my first feature piece which will be airing on WAMU 88.5 sometime within the next two weeks, date TBA.

Special thanks go out to Deborah Bolling, all of the YV folks, Joe Johns, Rosiland Jordan, Bob Lichter, Geoff Livingston, and Ms. Mutnick.

First Things First

So as an introductory post I'm doing the whole blah, blah, I love writing, you'll love what I have to say, nobody understands me bullshit that LiveJournal has been flooded with. In short, I think I might, possibly, maybe be considering doing something vaguely journalistic in nature with my life in the future.

In the meantime however, I'm putting the bulk of my little journalistic doings onto the web in one spot. Said doings will most likely be radio commentaries, possibly a feature or two, and (for the most part) Podcasts.

If I think of anything else witty to say, I'll be sure to edit this post later.